


Honor Thy Father

by KeldvokWrites



Category: Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25791604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeldvokWrites/pseuds/KeldvokWrites
Summary: On that cold night, as Peter held Norman’s lifeless form, it was too late to even scold the bastard. Thinking quickly, he disposed of the suit and mask, zipping away before the police arrived. It was the only thing he could do for Harry, now robbed of his father through no fault of his own.
Kudos: 2





	Honor Thy Father

“This is all your fault! You took him from me!”

Harry found himself straining to form words, his sorrow and anger feeling like they would scorch his lungs if he said any more. But the handgun he had pointed at New York’s “Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man” in the pouring rain spoke volumes. How he had caught the masked hero unawares, he wasn’t sure, but this was his chance to finally get some answers from his father’s killer.

But the so-called-hero said nothing.

* * *

_How could he?_

Peter remembered being at the funeral, and despite it being in the middle of the summer in New York City, he felt cold: He had been in many fights with masked criminals and dangerous armored monstrosities, but the night that the Green Goblin had died in his arms, a victim of his own glider’s blades, seeing Norman Osborn’s face under the metal mask shook him to his core.

Norman had always had a complicated relationship with his son, Peter recalled: He would take Harry to ball games and science fairs, like any ordinary dad would (he assumed), but there always felt like despite the warmth he would show his son in public, there was an ulterior motive, a razor in the apple.

Peter remembered the time Harry had taken them up in an Oscorp Helicopter when he had just gotten his license. Harry had shown up to school, his face nearly glowing with excitement. Harry was always nervous at school, hands usually found deep in his pockets. But that day was different, nearly colliding with Flash Thompson on his way to Peter and Gwen, at their usual lunch table. Norman had gotten them permission to get out of classes for the day (how he had pulled it off, Peter didn’t know), and within the hour, they were in the New York City skyline with their best friend at the helm of a tricked-out helicopter.

But Gwen had noticed something during the ride, eyes straining towards the front. What she saw saddened her: the little green journal in Norman Osborn’s hands. _Of course_ , she thought to herself; He was taking notes, pencil furiously vibrating against the paper. He was no doubt going to go over with Harry later and criticize his every mistake. Never mind that his sixteen-year-old son was FLYING a vehicle that would take most of his company years to learn how to operate, Norman was a perfectionist to his core, and he made sure he imposed it on his son too. Probably why his wife left him, though Gwen, though she found Emily to have been just as cold to her son, rarely taking her eyes off her wine glass during the rare occasions they were invited over for dinner around holidays and Harry’s birthday.

* * *

On that cold night, as Peter held Norman’s lifeless form, it was too late to even scold the bastard. Thinking quickly, he disposed of the suit and mask, zipping away before the police arrived. It was the only thing he could do for Harry, now robbed of his father through no fault of his own.

But Harry had also found out the truth of his father that night: Norman had, in his haste, left his lair ajar, the emerald glow of the lab below creeping out from among the corner of the Wine Cellar that served as a trick room to keep out interlopers. He ran his hands through one of Norman’s masks, the cool touch of the metal only offset by Harry’s rage and confusion. The Goblin Glider in the center of the room terrified him. He had seen it on television before, the Goblin’s crimes unfurled across New York City like a spreading stain. However, upon inspection, he found that it used the same control scheme as the helicopter he had learned to pilot. _Did he intend for me to join him someday? Is that what it was about? How long has this been going on?_ His heart raced, and his stomach churned. He ran out of the room, and he swore he could hear laughter as he slammed the door of his room, put on his headphones and began to cry into his pillow.

* * *

But Harry was not his father. He glared at the masked vigilante; eyes full of sorrow. He threw the gun on the ground and rested against the bricks of the alleyway. “Failure. Just like dad said I was. I can’t even bring myself to get revenge on his murderer.”

“Harry, I’m sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on Tumblr! [@KeldvokWrites](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/keldvok)


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